


so clear my vision is blurred

by diphylleias



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Puppy Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 05:02:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleias/pseuds/diphylleias
Summary: “Crown?” he hears himself choke out. Guanlin nods in confirmation. Jihoon thinks of his mark, of the brilliant blue crown that has been present on his skin for years, and his head spins.“I—I have to show you something,” Jihoon stumbles over his words, standing up too quickly and almost tripping over Guanlin in the process. Guanlin looks confused, understandably so, as Jihoon grabs at his arm and motions for him to follow.(Jihoon decides to give up on a soulmate, but it turns out he never had to in the first place.)





	so clear my vision is blurred

Jihoon is four when the ink starts creeping up his skin, a bright, alarming blue swirling and dancing around his rib cage. He stares and stares and _stares_ , until his mother gently turns his head to look ahead, because she can’t scrub his neck properly with his eyes pinned on the blue blossoming on his body.

“What is—what is that?” He forces out, struggling to pronounce the words properly, words feeling foreign on his tongue. Jihoon keeps his head turned forward, feeling his mother’s soft, soapy hands still on his back.

“Your mark,” she says, voice soft. Her voice is too quiet, Jihoon thinks. It’s the same tone he hears her use sometimes with his father, all soft murmurs and gentle words when they think he’s fallen asleep. It feels as though they have suddenly breached a topic that is too private, too precious to be spoken aloud. He can hear his mother’s breathing, quiet and steady.

“Mark?” He echoes, feeling the need to lower his voice because suddenly everything feels too _loud_ , too big and improper for their small, cluttered bathroom. The gentle hands on his back resume their scrubbing.

“We are all marked for someone, Jihoon,” his mother says, words slow and warm like the water now running down his bare back. “Your soulmate. Someone who you’re meant to love and spend your life with.” She pours another pail of warm water down his back and Jihoon takes a breath in, feeling the heat spread on his skin and trickle down to his bones.

“Okay,” he replies absentmindedly, trying to pretend he understands everything she just said. His mother laughs a soft, tinkling laugh and grabs a towel.

“Everything will fall in place one day,” she promises as she wraps the big towel around him. Jihoon nods, leaning into the warmth and security of the towel. The unraveling edge of the old towel tickles his nose and he squirms as his mother dries him off. He catches a flash of color against her collarbone before she reaches to tug her shirt up. _One day_.

 

 

+

 

 

“Oh,” his mother breathes, eyes caught by the colors on his skin. “It’s beautiful.” Jihoon squirms under her gaze and wants to pull his shirt down because he’s suddenly gripped by an inexplicable urge to hide, to cover it, to run, because—

“I don’t like it,” he blurts out, yanking his shirt down. His mother jolts like she’s been slapped and slowly pulls her fingers away, staring into his eyes. Jihoon purses his lips and looks at the floor, heat crawling up the back of his neck in hot embarrassment. It’s silent, scarily so, as his fingers play with the hem of his shirt, shame weighing him down like he can’t breathe.

“Jihoon,” his mother says sternly, and Jihoon finally drags his eyes up to meet hers. She stares at him for what seems like years before she opens her mouth again, and Jihoon is expecting a lecture, a scolding, anything but the soft voice that hits his ears. “Jihoon, that mark is _yours_. It’s nothing to be ashamed about; it’s simply a symbol for someone special that will make you happy, do you understand?” 

“But it’s so _blue_ ,” he forces out, voice quiet. His mother just sighs in response, raising a hand to run her fingers through his hair. She rubs his head thoughtfully for a few moments before she opens her mouth again.

“It’s blue for a reason, Jihoon. It stands out—for a reason. It’s _there_ for a reason,” she lets her fingers fall back to her side and Jihoon swallows nervously. “You’re only ten, Jihoon. It takes time.”

Time— _for what_? Jihoon wants to ask. Time to grow? Time to like the splattering of blue on his chest? Time to find his soulmate? Time for them to find him? The world starts to spin in his mind, a wobble of feelings and colors he doesn’t know how to process.

“I’ll try,” he says instead, scratching at his mark through his shirt. It weighs down on his skin like a liquid he just can’t manage to soak up and it works its way so deeply into his thoughts he doesn’t know how to take it out.

He scratches at it for the rest of the day.

 

 

+

 

 

Jihoon is fourteen when he decides he wants to become an idol, to sing and dance and stand on stage and _perform_. He stares at the idols through the screen of his small TV and he’s absolutely mesmerized. Enthralled by their smiles and taken by their beauty, he decides right then and right there.

He also decides to give up his soulmate. Because he’s seen and heard enough scandals to know, idols don’t have soulmates. Or rather, they _can’t_ have soulmates. It’s simply how they live, how they’re taught to be, and how society wants them to behave. You don’t get to find the one you’re meant to be with when you work in the entertainment industry. You don’t have the luxury.

Jihoon lifts up his shirt hesitantly, staring at his mark. Bold, rich blue lines twine together to form a bright, dazzling crown, spanning across his right rib cage. The symbol of royalty itches under his gaze and Jihoon takes a deep breath in.

“Sorry,” he whispers to it. His voice bounces off the walls of his room and suddenly it’s too silent, too suffocating. Jihoon lets his shirt fall back down, feeling stupid.

But—a dream takes sacrifices. He knows.

 

 

+

 

 

Jihoon sucks in a breath and it’s loud, too loud even to his own ears. Kwon Hyeob raises his eyebrows from beside him.

“You okay?” He asks Jihoon, concern lacing his words. Jihoon just nods stiffly, still staring ahead.

The universe must be playing some sort of sick joke on him, Jihoon thinks with a twist in his gut, because there are—quite literally—blue crowns _everywhere_. The Produce 101 Season 2 logo is pasted nearly everywhere he turns and a blue crown finds its way into his vision every single time.

Jihoon has barely thought of his mark in four years, and now it’s as though different versions of _his mark_ , the same mark that is permanently on his skin, are assaulting his very mind and soul. He sighs under his breath and he turns around when a very human-seeming figure suddenly crashes into him and his whole body jolts as though it’s been stunned.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” Jihoon blinks at the chest in front of him for a few moments before tilting his head up. The boy who bumped into him is _tall_ , he notes with just a bit of envy.

“It’s fine,” Jihoon says lightly, offering the boy a smile. He gapes at Jihoon, mouth wide, before snapping it shut and bowing down in apology once again.

“I’m sorry!” He insists again. And then, before Jihoon can reassure him, he opens his mouth with a determined look on his face. “You’re, um, you’re really handsome! I’m Lai Guanlin, from Cube! Nice to meet you!” He speaks in rough, broken Korean, but Jihoon still can’t quite manage to stop the flush from creeping into his cheeks.

“Thank you,” he finally manages in response, body still oddly reeling from the crash. Guanlin breaks into a smile and his happiness is so tangible and infectious, Jihoon feels the corners of his lips twitch upwards again.

“Guanlin!” Someone yells from afar, and the tall boy turns around in surprise to find the source of the noise. Another boy is waving at Guanlin to come over, which Jihoon guesses to be another Cube trainee. Guanlin shoots Jihoon one last smile before speeding off, long legs jerking awkwardly as he runs.

Jihoon tries not to stare after him, Guanlin’s compliment still fresh in his mind.

“He’s cute,” Kwon Hyeob comments nonchalantly from beside him, though a smile is playing on his lips. They watch as Guanlin and the other boy talk together, waving their hands animatedly.  

“Yeah,” Jihoon echoes. He makes the mistake of turning his head slightly, and a bright blue crown creeps into his vision once again. Jihoon settles for staring at the floor. “He was.”

 

 

+

 

 

Guanlin really _is_ cute. Cute because he’s so young, so naïve, and so willing to chase his dreams. Despite being one of the taller members of the show, nearly everyone dotes on him in small, subtle ways that leave said boy giggling and smiling. It’s beyond endearing, Jihoon thinks, but he doesn’t let himself linger on that thought for too long.

Because, another pressing issue that’s been taking up all of his time lately, is the fact that—

_Guanlin really seems to like you, doesn’t he?_

Minhyun’s words bounce around in his mind and Jihoon purses his lips. Despite the heat spreading through his face, he knows, deep down, that Minhyun’s right. Frankly, anyone who has seen Guanlin around Jihoon would know: Guanlin _admires_ him. It’s strange because no one has ever admired him so openly before. It’s strange because no one has ever tried to seek him out simply to ask about his day. And it’s strange—just because it’s Guanlin.

Jihoon knows he has a soft spot for the other boy. For his big smiles and awkward words, for the way his face lights up when anyone compliments him, for the look of determination that crosses his face when he tries to use new vocabulary terms.

Just because it’s Guanlin.

The practice room door opens with a bang and Jihoon nearly jumps, startled out of his thoughts. He looks up to just in time to see Guanlin’s eager face hovering near him and he feels his stomach flip. Jihoon swallows.

“Guanlin?” He tries, but his voice sounds scratchy. He clears his throat. “What are you doing here?” Guanlin sits down happily next to him, seemingly ecstatic that the practice room is empty except for the two of them. Barely contained excitement shines in his eyes and he rocks back and forth, staring into Jihoon’s eyes.  

“Teach me your aegyo!” Guanlin says, grinning. Jihoon already feels the embarrassment growing and he lets out a slight groan. Guanlin doesn’t look deterred. If anything, his eyes crinkle even more and Jihoon doesn’t want to look at him because how can someone smile that brightly—

“Don’t you already know how to do it?” Jihoon shoots back, because he’s _positive_ he has seen Guanlin imitating his hand motions before. He fixes Guanlin with his best disappointed look. The younger boy hums thoughtfully for a few moments before he shakes his head sheepishly.

“I don’t really know what it means,” he admits, almost shyly, and Jihoon feels his heart squeeze, just a bit. Sometimes he forgets just how amazing Guanlin is, still holding tight to his dreams despite all the obstacles that he has to overcome. Jihoon sighs, and Guanlin smiles like he knows he’s won, like he knows how easy it is to make Jihoon bend.

“You could’ve just said so,” Jihoon huffs, even though they both know he doesn’t really mind. Guanlin looks at him expectedly, and Jihoon wonders distantly how his life has come to this. Three years of dreaming, nearly two years of training, as if it was all just to meet a young boy from Taipei who still struggles to read signs in the hallway sometimes.

“I secure you in my heart,” Jihoon sounds out slowly. He’s suddenly aware of how different it feels, saying the words directly to someone rather than to a camera. The color finding its way into his cheeks is steadily ignored and he focuses on Guanlin’s knee. “Secure, it’s like—hold? I guess?” Jihoon would make for a terrible tutor. “No, it’s more like—keep. Keeping someone in your heart.”

He risks a glance at Guanlin and falters: he’s staring right back at him, looking nearly starry-eyed.

“In your heart?” Guanlin repeats eagerly. Jihoon blinks in surprise. _That_ was the part he wanted confirmation on?

“In your heart,” he affirms, watching the light bounce off Guanlin’s eyes.

“Heart,” Guanlin says again, still looking at him. Jihoon furrows his brows, just slightly.

“Heart,” he echoes slowly, wondering where Guanlin is going with this.

“Heart,” Guanlin repeats happily, as though everything in the universe has fallen back into its proper place. Confusion still clouds Jihoon’s mind. “I’ll keep you in my heart,” Guanlin announces in almost perfect Korean, as he stands up and stretches. And then, without saying anything, he turns and bolts.

“Wh—”

“Goodnight!” Guanlin calls after he’s out of the room, loud voice floating in at the last second. Jihoon blinks rapidly, staring at the now empty space next to him, feeling as though he just missed something important.

Letting out a sigh, he stands up and rubs his eyes slowly. Maybe he should sleep too.

“Goodnight,” Jihoon mumbles to the empty practice room as he shuts off the light and closes the door softly. After all, tomorrow is just another day of grueling practice, cameras, and—Guanlin.

 

 

+

 

 

“Kiss me if I make it in,” Guanlin murmurs quietly. Jihoon freezes, fingers hovering over Guanlin’s hair.

“I—what?”

“You have to kiss me,” Guanlin mumbles, not opening his eyes. He doesn’t budge from where he’s lying on Jihoon’s lap. “If I make it into the top eleven.” Jihoon’s mouth goes dry and he’s about to open his mouth to tell Guanlin that _really_ isn’t a good idea—

“On the cheek,” he adds sleepily, as if it’s an afterthought. He leans into Jihoon’s hand, brows furrowing slightly at the lack of motion. Jihoon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and prays Guanlin doesn’t feel his hands shaking as he continues threading his fingers through the younger boy’s hair.

Guanlin’s breathing begins to even out into slow steady breaths, and Jihoon’s beginning to think he’s fallen asleep when suddenly a pair of bright eyes are staring up at him, inches away from his face. Jihoon jerks back, letting out a small noise of surprise. Guanlin giggles.

“Promise?” He asks, eyes wide and looking hopefully up at him. Jihoon looks at Guanlin and feels like he’s drowning, like he’s already lost at a game they haven’t started playing. He swallows but forces himself to not look away.

“Promise,” he forces out, voice tight. Guanlin hums contentedly and closes his eyes again. He shifts slightly, head brushing against Jihoon’s rib cage, and Jihoon sucks in a sharp breath.

“Did you think I meant on the lips?” Guanlin mumbles. Jihoon’s blood turns to ice, and he knows that now, there’s no way Guanlin can’t feel his heart speed up. There’s no way to hide the way his hands freeze. Time stops for a moment, stilted by the strained silence, as Jihoon desperately racks his brain for something to say. _Should I deny it? Should I even respond?_ _What would he even say?_

A soft snore sounds from under him, jerking him out of his stupor. Jihoon stares and stares at the sixteen year old boy sleeping on his lap in disbelief.

“I won’t kiss you if you make it in,” he says crossly, all too aware that he’s being childish. He feels his face heat up. _This is ridiculous_.

He gets another snore in response.

 

 

+

 

 

After he hugs Woojin, Jihoon goes in to hug Guanlin, heart thudding loud and fast in his ears as he whispers a quick congratulations. As he starts to pull away, Guanlin tugs at his arms, staring at him all too knowingly.

“C’mon, c’mon you promised!” Guanlin yells excitedly over the roar of the audience. Jihoon stares at him, eyes wide as confetti falls from the ceiling.

“Here?” He hears himself ask in disbelief. Camera lights are still rapidly going off and Jihoon can barely see, can barely even _hear_ , too overwhelmed by the happiness bubbling inside his chest. Guanlin nods eagerly, still tugging at his arms, and Jihoon knows there’s no way he can fight back.

So instead, he funnels the adrenaline and joy coursing through his veins and he leans in. Guanlin turns his cheek toward him and Jihoon is distinctly aware of the moment his mouth makes contact with skin, because everything suddenly slides into place.

Everything is blue, loud, and absolutely dazzling. Jihoon pulls away and Guanlin beams at him, eyes bright. He swallows and turns around, resolutely making his way to find other people.

He tries not to dwell on it, but it feels as though it’s the start of something new. 

 

 

+

 

 

Jihoon doesn’t really forget about his mark; after all, he sees it every day when he changes, but he completely puts everything about soulmates in the very back of his mind. His mark is just another part of his body that he sees regularly and that he grows accustomed to. Soulmates don’t exist for idols, they can’t.

He doesn’t really _think_ about it, until one day he’s all of a sudden made too aware.

It starts with Woojin coming out of the shower shirtless. Guanlin has mysteriously disappeared, likely asking for help with Korean, while Jaehwan and Minhyun are nowhere to be seen. Now it’s just Woojin and Jihoon left in the room, and before Jihoon can help it, his eyes are being dragged to the splotch of color at Woojin’s hip.

It’s nothing like his own mark, all bright blue and stark lines. Instead, it’s softer, but beautiful all the same. The playful, gray rabbit seems to stare back at Jihoon as it tries to make its way up Woojin’s torso and he finds himself smiling at the thought. The mark is cute.

Jihoon looks up into Woojin’s eyes and knows he’s been caught staring. He laughs sheepishly and looks away, apology already slipping from his tongue.

“It’s okay,” Woojin says, shrugging as he hunts for a shirt, but there’s something off in his voice that Jihoon recognizes immediately. A hint of tightness, slightly forced. And then, before he can stop himself—

“Do you know who it is?” Woojin stills and Jihoon thinks he may have accidentally stepped on a landmine. _Oh no, I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer, it’s fine._ The words on the tip of his tongue dissolve as Woojin gives a soft sigh and turns around to face him, now wearing a soft black shirt.

“It’s who you think it is,” he says resignedly, and Jihoon sees a flicker of conflict in his eyes. As though he doesn’t know what to do. Jihoon searches his mind for an answer, suddenly feeling stupid that he has no idea who Woojin’s soulmate is. Someone that most people would be able to guess?

Jihoon thinks back to all the people he’s met these past few months, all the fellow trainees and teammates. The rabbit on Woojin’s skin floats in his mind and _wait_ , hadn’t Euiwoong always joked that a certain rabbit looked weirdly similar to—

“Oh,” Jihoon breathes softly, and suddenly his heart aches for the boy standing in front of him. Woojin’s hair is still wet and Jihoon doesn’t know why he wants to apologize. _You could have debuted with your soulmate_ , he thinks helplessly, and suddenly Woojin’s strange reluctance to give up his phone makes perfect sense. “I’m–”

“Don’t. It’s okay,” Woojin says, voice rough. _Sorry_ , Jihoon thinks, _that you have to go through this_. Woojin lets out a breath, and Jihoon doesn’t say anything about the shakiness. “We’re idols now, aren’t we? We can’t have soulmates anyways. It’s okay.”

Jihoon can tell it is most definitely not okay, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches as Woojin folds his clothes and shoves them into a drawer. Woojin walks out of the room silently after he’s done and then it’s just him left.

Hesitantly, Jihoon slides a hand under his shirt and rests a palm on his mark. All he hears is the steady beating of his heart as he scratches lightly at his ribcage. He lays down on his bed, hand still resting on the swirl of blue, and feels oddly empty. For the first time, he lets himself wonder about his soulmate.

_What are you like? Have I met you yet?_

 Jihoon’s thoughts feel too blaringly loud in the silence of the empty room and he sits up, staring blankly at the wall and wishing for a distraction, anything.

As if on cue, Guanlin bursts into the room, throwing the door open with a loud noise. Jihoon jumps in surprise and Guanlin has the decency to look slightly embarrassed but he doesn’t hesitate in opening his mouth.

“What did you and Woojin talk about?” He asks curiously, and there is little Jihoon can do to hide his wince. “Woojin looks sad now, did you talk about sad things?” Guanlin stares at him and Jihoon just lets out a loud sigh, flopping backwards onto his bed again. He feels the mattress make a noise as the younger boy sits down next to him. There’s a pause as Guanlin waits for a response and Jihoon tries to think of a way to still somehow respect Woojin’s privacy.

“Soulmates.” He says, looking at the ceiling. “We were talking about soulmates.” Guanlin makes a soft noise of understanding and stays silent. Jihoon turns his head to face Guanlin, slightly thrown off by the response. Usually he would pry further, asking questions that Jihoon could barely keep up with. And yet, Guanlin stays silent, an unreadable look on his face.

“Guan-” Guanlin suddenly cuts him off, flopping on top of him and resting his head on Jihoon’s chest just as Jihoon nearly chokes from the impact, coughing lightly. 

“M’tired,” Guanlin announces, adjusting himself on top of Jihoon. As he’s turning, he rubs _hard_ against Jihoon’s mark and Jihoon lets out a strangled noise against his will. The younger boy stills and Jihoon wills his heart to remain calm. “Sorry,” he mumbles, twisting his neck to look at Jihoon. “You okay?”

Jihoon nods vigorously, trying to get over the weird feeling that just shot through his body.

“I’m fine,” he reassures Guanlin, hand coming up to pat the boy’s hair out of habit. There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You just accidentally touched my mark.”

Jihoon is sure his face is red by now; he doesn’t know why he had to blurt that out. _Was that even necessary?_

“Oops,” Guanlin replies calmly, and then closes his eyes again. Jihoon holds back a sigh and just stares at Guanlin’s profile.

Forget about soulmates, Jihoon thinks haphazardly as his eyes trace the outline of Guanlin’s nose and lips. He still has to deal with _this_ before even thinking about soulmates. Jihoon’s mind is a jumbled mess of feelings when he looks at Guanlin, and he knows he’s already fallen too hard.

 

 

+

 

 

(Jihoon slides down the handrail of the stairs because it feels like he’s a kid again, and he’s gliding, flying down before he suddenly falls, _literally_ , into Guanlin’s arms.

“You surprised me,” Guanlin says, laughing as he helps Jihoon steady himself. Jihoon resolutely does not look up at his face. He knows the cameras are rolling. “Don’t get hurt,” Guanlin murmurs, voice kind and soft and _he’s so close_ , Jihoon thinks belatedly. He’s still holding onto his arms, and Jihoon can feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs.

Jihoon lets out a squawk and speeds off into a different room to hide the dumb smile he knows he has.)

 

 

 

+

 

 

“You’ve been doing really well lately,” Jihoon says quietly, watching as Guanlin scribbles in his Korean textbook.

“Thanks,” Guanlin beams, grinning toothily. He lays his pencil down and throws his arms into the air to stretch. At one point his hands come dangerously close to Jihoon’s face, and Jihoon lets out a little noise of protest. Guanlin just giggles at him, eyes disappearing into crescents. “You’re so cute,” he says, still laughing, and Jihoon blinks at him dumbly. This isn’t good for his heart.

“You know,” Jihoon starts, tearing his eyes away from Guanlin and instead settling on Guanlin’s Mandarin name, scrawled in the corner of the page. “We always teach you Korean, but you could teach us some of your language well; that would be interesting.”

“My language?” Guanlin repeats curiously, following Jihoon’s eyes to his name. Jihoon nods, offering a smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Your language.”

“Okay,” Guanlin declares proudly, and Jihoon’s heart softens at the shine in his eyes. “My name isn’t really that interesting, but I guess I can tell you about that.”

He points at the first character in his name. “Lai,” he enunciates. He looks at Jihoon expectantly.

“Oh, uh,” Jihoon furrows his brows in concentration and tries to imitate the way Guanlin pronounces it. “Lai.” Guanlin smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

“It doesn’t mean much when the character’s by itself,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s just my surname.” Guanlin points to the third character in his name. “Lin,” he says, looking at Jihoon again.

“We’re skipping the second character?” Jihoon asks, raising an eyebrow. Guanlin waves him off impatiently.

“The second one’s the most important so I saved it for last,” he says, in a matter of fact way. Jihoon hides a small smile and nods in understanding.

“Lin,” Jihoon repeats carefully. Guanlin gives him another thumbs up.

“This one doesn’t really mean much either,” Guanlin explains sheepishly. “But!” He points to certain part of the character and Jihoon scoots closer to see. “The top part of the character means ‘snow’ and the bottom part means...”

He trails off, eyebrows knit together, and Jihoon knows he’s trying to think of the right word. He watches in amusement as Guanlin mumbles to himself for a few moments. Jihoon edges a bit closer and allows himself to breathe in the familiar, comforting scent of Guanlin’s shampoo while he waits for Guanlin to figure it out. 

“Forest!” Guanlin says proudly, and Jihoon can’t help but smile. “Okay, now the second character,” Guanlin continues, and he seems almost _excited_ , finger pointing to the scratch of lines on the page. “Guan.”

“Guan?” Jihoon tries, stumbling over the pronunciation a bit. He gets a grin in response.  

“Guan means—” Guanlin slowly scoots forward and straightens up like he’s proud of himself. His smile burns bright and dazzling in front of Jihoon's eyes. "Crown.”

He looks to Jihoon, expectant.

There’s a part of Jihoon’s mind that has memorized the way Guanlin laughs. That has created a catalogue of all of his smiles, another one for the feeling of his hands, and another one for the way he looks when he sleeps. A part that has been buzzing for _months_ on the high of near infatuation. And for the first time, it stutters to a complete and utter stop and the silence is frightening. A missing piece somewhere deep down in Jihoon locks into place and suddenly the world he has known for his whole life tilts on its axis. _Crown_ , his soul sighs out. When he takes a breath again his heart is beating out his chest.

“Crown?” he hears himself choke out. Guanlin nods in confirmation. Jihoon thinks of his mark, of the brilliant blue crown that has been present on his skin for _years_ , and his head spins.

“I—I have to show you something,” Jihoon stumbles over his words, standing up too quickly and almost tripping over Guanlin in the process. Guanlin looks confused, understandably so, as Jihoon grabs at his arm and motions for him to follow.

“What?” Guanlin lets out intelligibly, as he follows Jihoon upstairs and into the second room on the right. Jihoon jumps to lock the door behind them and prays with all his soul that no one tries to knock. He breathes in slowly, listening to his pulse jump erratically.

Guanlin is still staring quizzically at him, and Jihoon takes another breath before grabbing at the bottom of his shirt and lifting it up. He focuses on the racing of his heartbeat in his ears and avoids Guanlin’s gaze as he slowly, carefully exposes the right side of his torso.

“Oh,” Guanlin inhales, gaping at his mark. Jihoon’s whole body is burning up in embarrassment and he clears his throat, risking a glance at Guanlin.

“Crown,” he repeats weakly, gesturing to his exposed skin. Guanlin’s eyes are shining like a child seeing jewelry for the first time and Jihoon swallows as he continues to stare. He feels stupid, standing quietly in the room and holding his shirt up for Guanlin to look at his mark. Jihoon opens his mouth to say something, _anything_ , to break the silence when Guanlin takes a step forward and suddenly he’s right there in front of him, hands on the hem of his shirt.

“What are y—”

“Off,” Guanlin says petulantly, pulling Jihoon’s shirt up and over his head. Jihoon almost laughs at how childish he sounds, but he can’t laugh—not with Guanlin’s hands on his skin, and he can barely even breathe as his heart continues to stutter in his chest.

Guanlin throws Jihoon’s shirt to the side and, in one swift motion, tugs his own shirt off.

Jihoon thinks he truly might die today, as he watches Guanlin’s arms flex and bend to maneuver their way out of the fabric. Guanlin throws his shirt aside too, and Jihoon zeroes in on the area of color near his collarbone.

Guanlin smiles, blindingly bright, and Jihoon loses all of his breath.

Sitting on top of Guanlin’s chest is a swirling pink heart, dashes of color dancing along his collarbone. Placed in the center of the heart is none other than a shimmering golden keyhole, staring back at Jihoon, laughing at him.

“You—”

“I keep you in my heart,” Guanlin says, eyes boring into his, smile never fading, and Jihoon feels almost lightheaded as a memory from months ago stirs to life in his brain.

“You knew?” He asks dumbly, staring at the pink on Guanlin’s chest. His heartbeat is deafening. The younger boy’s smile drops a bit, and he looks around the room nervously, avoiding Jihoon’s eyes.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same, or—or if you were ready, or, you know,” He trails off, mumbling. Guanlin fiddles with his fingers and Jihoon is so, _so_ , painfully in love with the boy standing in front of him it almost hurts.

“I’m your soulmate,” Jihoon blurts out, and the tight atmosphere in the room dissipates all at once when Guanlin lifts his eyes to catch Jihoon’s gaze. “I’m—I was—We’re made for each other, aren’t we?” He swallows and lifts his hand, fingers grazing the heart perched on Guanlin’s collar. Guanlin lets out a small, muted noise; and before Jihoon can realize it, Guanlin raises his arm and touches the blue on his chest.

“Oh,” Jihoon breathes in sharply.

It feels _electric_.

Silence settles over them for a beat, before Jihoon pulls Guanlin in and presses their lips together. Their chests bump, and—for a moment—everything falls perfectly into place. Guanlin’s lips are dry, and Jihoon still has on a bit of lip tint, but it’s warm and soft and Jihoon couldn’t ask for more.

Guanlin pulls back, face flushed and brows furrowed.

“I wanted to kiss you first,” he says, frowning, and Jihoon just drops his head into the crook of Guanlin’s neck and laughs, hiding the redness in his face. Guanlin nudges his head up to kiss him and Jihoon’s breath catches in the back of his throat when their mouths slot together.

“I’m yours,” Guanlin announces, fingers fluttering along Jihoon’s torso, and Jihoon tries his best to concentrate on what Guanlin is saying. “And you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon exhales, brushing his hand along Guanlin’s mark. “You’re right.”

Guanlin tugs him in for another kiss.

 

 

+

 

 

“Are you guys done making out?!” Seungwoo hollers from downstairs. Jihoon feels his face heat up in embarrassment and he rests his forehead on Guanlin’s collarbone, letting out a small groan.

“Not yet!” Guanlin yells in the direction of the door. His accent is even more pronounced when he yells, and Jihoon bursts out laughing into Guanlin’s chest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was such an impulse write asjghhwejk i just had to after i saw the new wanna one go ep... as always feedback is appreciated!! and bonus points if you know who woojin's soulmate is :')
> 
> title taken from [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/3GlcH544cl8c24886zoKfM) ♡


End file.
